Tugger's Night Out
by zoey21q
Summary: Sometimes you need a kick in the pants to get you on the right track, and if anyone knows that, it's Tugger. A look into what made him what he is, and how his brother hopes to make him. Re-rated up a bit, because I'm just realizing, hey, it's Tugger!
1. Tugger's Night Out

He opened his eyes briefly and rubbed them before closing them quickly again, protecting them from the clear, bright glow of daylight. This wasn't his den; it was too bright. He scanned the walls with one half opened eye. It was too cheery to be his home. He moved his arm a little, feeling the pillow he was lying on. Too soft. He sniffed the air. It smelt too good to be anything he had ever tried to cook. He heard soft piano music coming from somewhere. This was definitely his house. Where _was_ he? He tried to sit up before collapsing again. His back hurt, and so did his head. He moaned a tired, worn, hoarse moan.

"Look who's up." Someone spoke from the other side of the den. The voice sounded far away, but very, very, very loud. Trying again to sit up, he tried to sink his claws into the pillow and pulled up with all his strength. It was no use…

On the other side of the room, Munkustrap put down the book he had been reading and stood up from his little desk chair. He stretched and breathed in the smell of a fresh, warm, spring day. He cracked his knuckles one by one, each of the pops aggravating the drowsy cat on the pillow below him even more.

"Stop, please." The groggy tom pleaded, as he tried again to grip the pillow. Once again, to no avail. He flipped onto his stomach, then, and continued to grumble into the pillow. It was then he discovered why he couldn't grasp anything properly, not even the pillow. Around both wrists was gauze, wrapped tightly, inhibiting any movement whatsoever form either of his front paws. He mumbled something else into the fabric that sounded like a question to his brother, who was now leaning over him impatiently.

"I can't hear you, Tug." Munkustrap rubbed his temples and sighed, nudging his brother gently with his toe.

"I said," Tugger whined, lifting his head. "Why am I here?" With that he flipped on to his back once again, and tried, failing a third time, to sit upright. "And what happened to my arms?" He held out a shaking limb, and Munkustrap took it, helping to prop his brother up against the wall.

"You know, I don't think I've been left in charge to take care of you since we were kittens. You do realize this is the fourth time in your short life you've had two broken limbs at the same time? Jenny swears it's some kind of record." He leaned coolly against the wall of his bedroom and laughed as his brother attempted to stand up. When he heard a pop, and watched as Tugger grabbed his lower back and flopped down again on the pillow in pain, he found it took a lot of work to restrain a laugh.

"I don't need anyone to take care of me." He tried to grab the wall and pull himself up by his claws, but once again, the gauze held not only his wrists immobilized, but his whole body in effect. He sighed, and refused to make eye contact with his brother, still watching from across the room, as he lifted one wrapped arm in the air and muttered, "Please?"

When Munkustrap had gotten his ailing brother to his desk chair, he asked again. "What happened to me Munk? How did I end up like this? Me! The Rum Tum T— Ow!" He had lifted his arms in the air, pulling a muscle the wrong way, sending a shot of pain up his side.

"Oh! You don't remember! Well, won't this be fun?" Munkustrap smiled wryly and went to get another chair, leaving his brother to gnaw on the fraying bandages at the tips of his fingers. When he returned he swat at his brother, and took a seat next to him at the desk. Sitting backwards in the dining chair and laying his head on top of his paws resting on the back, he stared up at his younger, less mature, wild-looking brother. "Alright, do you want the short story, or the truth?"

Annoyed with the question but too curious about the answer—and in too much pain—to leave, he snarled and lowered his head angrily, signifying to his brother that he should go on.

"Okay, long story short: you 'went out' with a couple of thugs last night, _far_ beyond the limits of the junkyard, got caught spraying a pharmacy—and I think you know what I mean—tried to fight off the police dog, got your tail handed to you in a doggy bag, ended up being dragged back to the yard by aforementioned thugs by your ankles and wrists, left in a puddle, probably escaped a kennel by a _whisker_ just because someone who doesn't hate you—and we all know that toms who fit that description are few and far between—was on guard duty, and ended up at Jenny's with those two broken wrists, a concussion—which probably explains why I'm explaining this to you—torn muscles up and down your back, and the fur on the end of your tail completely rubbed off from being dragged across the pavement." He took in a large breath. "Are there any questions?"

Tugger stared at him, stunned. "M…m-m-my…my…my tail!" He shrieked, reaching behind him and trying grabbing his tail. Without the use of his fingers, though, it was nearly impossible, so he just stared down sadly at the bandaged appendage, flicking at the air. He began to whimper.

Munkustrap yanked on his ear. "Would you pull it together, man!" He was yelling, and it made Tugger's head throb. "This is the third time in two months that I or another Jellicle with no relation to you _whatsoever _has had to save your fur, this is the second time you've been _nearly_ arrested, the fourth time since Christmas you've been caught spraying _something_, and dang-nabbit it's the last!" He slammed his fist down on the table. "You're only a year younger than me, Tug, but you still act like a teenager! When I take over for Father, I can't come waltzing down to the sidewalk every weekend to haul your unconscious tail back to Jenny's!" He sighed and put his head in his hands. "I can't keep saving you, Tug. As much as you don't think you need it, it's what I do every time I get a message from a guard. You need to grow up. Pick one of your adoring 'fans,' as you call them, and settle down. Don't you want all this?" He motioned to the bright den, with pictures of his family and poems Demeter had written for them hung on the walls. He pointed to the floor-to-ceiling window that let in enough light to read by, and finally, he motioned to his desk, cluttered with work and books, including a copy of _Tale of Two Cities_ opened upside down right in the middle. "Isn't this what everyone wants?"

Tugger thought about his own den: dark, crowded, dirty…but comfortable. "Actually," He began, picking up the book and flipping it open to a random page, then flipping it on to the pillow, making Munkustrap flinch as it hit the floor with a thud. "Not everyone wants, or needs this stuff, Munk. Some of us like to live on the edge, day by day, in solitary." He went to put his foot up on the desk and lean back in his chair, but his side pained him again, and he fell flat on his back, the chair upside down beside him. Munkustrap stifled a laugh and helped his brother up.

"So, you could stay here while you get better," he offered as they walked towards the door, Tugger with one arm around Munkustrap's shoulder, and the other clutching his side. "Or you could go back to Jenny's—mind you her den doesn't have a lock and you're officially helpless against your 'fan club'—" Tugger gulped, and a look of worry spread across his face. "_Or _you could go back to your den and sit in the dark for six weeks while those breaks heal." Tugger didn't look any better with the final option. "It's really your choice." Tugger barely moved. "Ok, let's narrow this down: Demeter, or screaming fan girls?" Munkustrap asked.

"Demeter!" Tugger jumped at the first option.

"Ok, Demeter or your own dark filth?"

"Uh…" Tugger thought hard. Munkustrap cut off his train of thought before it went anywhere else.

"You're staying here." With that, Munkustrap released his brother's arm and let him fall back onto the pillow where he promptly fell asleep.


	2. Part Of A Tribe

"I don't want your brother in my den one more day, Munk." Demeter said as she slammed down her mug of coffee on the kitchen table, making Munkustrap jump, even halfway across the room at the piano. "He's a bad influence." She muttered as she continued with her usual morning routine, only much, much, angrier. She threw the dishes around, and slammed chairs into tables as she moved about the kitchen.

"I know it's not the…best situation, but he's my brother, and scum of the tribe or not, I'm the protector, and that means everyone." He lifted his paws off the keys, declaring it a lost cause with Demeter storming around. "…Even if it's protecting someone from himself." He closed the lid and leaned his elbows on it, putting his head in his hands.

"How long?" She asked from across the room. She had finished with whatever she had been doing, and was now standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room of their den, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed.

"Not long, I promise." Munkustrap stood, holding his arms out to his wife.

"I said," She put up a single paw to stop him. "'How long?"

Munkustrap took her paw and held it tight. "A month, tops" He said calmly to her, in an almost pleading tone. When he went to kiss her paw, though, she pulled away, obviously angry once again.

"A month?" She took a step back. "A _month,_ Munkustrap?" Her paws flew into the air as she stomped back towards the kitchen. "A _month!" _It wasn't a question anymore; she was just yelling the statement out to the world, trying to make herself believe it. "Can't he have one of his devout followers take care of him for…" She blew out a huff of air before continuing. "…_a month!" _She finished the sentence under her breath, as if saying the very words pained her. She paced up and down the floor of the kitchen, mumbling words Munkustrap couldn't—and probably didn't care to—hear.

"I know it seems like a long time, dear, but you'll see, he'll be gone before you can say Rum T—"

"Do _not_ say his name." She froze and glared at him. "It is only by the grace of the Everlasting Cat, that I have not marched into _our_ bedroom, and dragged him out into the clearing by his ears. Don't push my patience."

"Message received." He nodded. "But I promise, it won't be that long." He walked back over to her, and this time she didn't move. He put one paw on the wall above her, and the other on her shoulder. "Trust me." Munkustrap said. "It won't be that bad." He kissed her forehead. "He'll be gone before you know it." He kissed her nose. "It'll only be a month before he—" And Demeter cut him off with a soft kiss on the lips.

"Stop talking about him." She stepped under her husband's arms and walked towards the door. "It ruined the moment." She laughed and blew him a kiss before waltzing out the door.

Munkustrap was left alone, one paw leaning on the wall, and the other hanging in the space his wife had just been. The house seemed too quiet, and the unusual presence of another tom was eerie. He had nowhere to be this particular morning, so he sat back down on the piano. The lid creaked, but soon the den was once again filled with a cheery Chopin piece he had been working on for a few weeks. It wasn't long, though, before he heard a noise that was all too familiar.

"Ughhhh." Moaned Tugger from the other side of the den. Munkustrap continued to play. "Ughhhh!" He heard again.

"If you're not going to use clear words, I will have no choice but to assume you want me to play louder!" Munkustrap hollered over his own playing.

"Shut up!" Tugger yelled. Munkustrap got up from the piano once again, and trotted into his bedroom.

"What, Tugger?" Munkustrap sauntered into his room and stared, annoyed, down at his brother.

"I think it's clear who got the musical talent in the family…" Tugger mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Munkustrap asked.

"Help me!" Tugger hissed, all four limbs flailing in the air.

"What's the magic word?" Munkustrap teased.

"Help me or I'll wring you neck the second I get these casts off!"

"You're close, but it's only one word." Munkustrap sang, stepping around his brother to his desk.

"I swear, so help me, _the_ second I can, I will kill you!" he flopped back down on the pillow. "Wait," he said, but when he instinctively went to sit up, his back once again went into spasms, forcing him flat on his back once more.

"Fine, I'll help you, but only because you asked so nicely." Munkustrap leaned over and grabbed his brother by the scruff of the neck.

After almost ten minutes of trial and error pushing and pulling, Tugger was vertical, and Munkustrap was exhausted.

"What time is it?" Tugger asked, shaking his mane carefully, being cautious of his still aching head.

"Eh, about nine, I'd say." Munkustrap looked, in between panting breaths, out the window at the sun, which was about halfway up in the east.

"Oh, that's not so bad." Tugger began carefully towards the bathroom.

"It's Tuesday, Tug." Munkustrap said, crossing his arms and giving him an 'I-told-you-so' look.

From inside the small bathroom, Tugger's voice rang out. "YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!"

"No, Tugger, you've been asleep for almost three d—" He began to lecture, only to be cut off again by his brother's frantic voice.

"Who give a rat's how long I've been out…" He gasped. "Look at my mane!" He began to shuffle through the draws beneath the sink desperately, never taking his eyes off of the mirror for more than a second. "Do you _own_ a comb!"

"Actually, no; Demeter does, though." As Munkustrap said it, Tugger came across the small, pink comb.

"You've got to be kidding me—!"

"You've been saying that an awful lot, you know."

"Don't test me, Munk." Tugger held one paw up to his brother's face, and Munk didn't know if what a finger, or a fist.

"Look, Demeter and I hate this situation as much as you do." He sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Trust me. But being frantic won't help anything. The important thing is that you need to get some rest. Think about your issues, maybe read a book, contemplate your life as of right now. It's obvious to everyone but you that you need to slow it down. How many times can you come home clinging on to consciousness by a whisker before something actually happens?" Tugger stuck his head out of the bathroom and looked at his brother, sitting cross-legged in his desk chair. "I really am thinking about you, here. I'm thinking about you, and your fan-club, and Dad, and your girlfriend-of-the-week—who is it this week, Cassandra?" Tugger grunted affirmatively from the mirror. "—the point is, the tribe as a whole would suffer greatly if any one of us left for any reason at all. Whether it's to some far off land, a pound—Heviside forbid—or worse." Tugger stepped out of the bathroom looking only slightly more put together than a few moments ago. "As distant and independent as you want to think you are, we all have the same kind of responsibilities and everyone needs everyone to stay together. Are you following any of this?"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. 'I'm important; we're all equals; the tribe needs everyone! I get the gist." Tugger crossed his arms tentatively.

"I hope you do. Now," he stood up and stretched, and Tugger itched to do the same, before thinking of what happened the last time he had moved his arm like Munkustrap was. "Let's get you some breakfast.


	3. Dang it

**Author's Note:**** For some reason I have not been able to edit my stories from this site, so this is the first author's note I've been able to write for this story…YAY! Okay. So, responding to my one piece of (glorious) constructive criticism, (And I am really so thankful for it) I do think that Munkustrap is a little harsher than one would expect him to be in the first chapter. My reasoning behind this stems from my own experiences with my brother. I am a very responsible, level headed, kind person, but sometime my brother just pushes me to be a real pain in the _. He's my weakness, and I think Tugger is Munkustrap's. The second chapter is kind of me playing around with characters. I'm really trying to make Tugger and Munkustrap real foil characters, so I'm setting Munkustrap up to be this very proper guy, and later on, we will see how truly disgusting Tugger can be. (Wow, that will be fun to write) This chapter is almost the turning point in the story, until Victoria and Jem show up and he reverts back to his old ways. (Don't blame it on the children, it's not their fault he's a pig) My final note will be this: I really wanted to emphasize things about these characters, and in doing so I made them a little more human-ish, and a little less cat-ish. I hope that doesn't make it any less fun to read. Enjoy! And please review!**

The brothers spent their breakfast glaring silently at each other, Tugger thinking about the long weeks ahead of him, and Munkustrap thinking about Demeter. After Munkustrap had cleared their plates and settled Tugger on the couch, he put on his hat and headed towards the door.

"Wait!" Tugger yelled form across the den. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"Rest. That's what Jenny would've had you do." Munkustrap opened the door, but was once again interrupted.

"I've been resting for the past three days! I'm going to go stir crazy!"

"Want me to send Electra…" He paused for a moment trying to think of who else paraded around with Tugger. "…and company to baby-sit?"

"NO!" Tugger yelled.

"Fine, then just rest. There are a few books on the coffee table if the wind so moves you to read." He paused impatiently as his brother let out a defiant _"Pfft."_ But Munkustrap gathered himself. "And the radio has been working lately."

"_I'm going to die…" _Tugger groaned.

"You're not going to die. At least not in the next few weeks. Once you're outta' here you're on your own, though." Tugger let out another groan. "And remember, Victoria may be home around lunch. If she's alone, be a nice uncle; if she's got friends, be civilized."

"Whatever." Tugger let his head hang over the arm of the couch, and was now looking at his brother upside down.

"I'm serious. Though, I don't know how much hip shakin' you'll be doing in your condition." Munkustrap let out a deep laugh and left quickly.

Tugger was all alone. Better, though, he was all alone in his stuck-up brother's house. He perused the books on the table that were separated into two piles. One containing _The Odyssey, All Quiet on the Western Front, _and a countless many others by Charles Dickens (Including yet _another_ copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_), and the other, much taller stack compiled of The _Twilight_ Saga and Nicolas Sparks. Tugger assumed they were separated into Munkustrap's versus Demeter's…until he found a bookmark with his brother's handwriting sticking out of _Dear John._

Tugger sighed. How did his brother, the nerd, the kiss-up, the prim-and-proper piano playing, classic reading, ballet watching, opera singing geek, end up with the best den in the yard, a second in command position, and Demeter? Because that's what it took in life, and more importantly, that's what the queens around there were into. Tugger thought hard about that. He sang like a rock star, looked like a god, and could probably sweet talk Gus into at least a dinner date if he tried hard enough…but that was it.

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. All of the kittens in the yard either wanted to date him, or _be_ him, but those were the kittens. The queens, anyone within a two year age span of him, were either taken or had left him alone in his den in the middle of the night at least once.

"Ouch." He said out loud to himself.

"Need another aspirin?" A small, high-pitched voice asked from the kitchen. Tugger jumped, not having realized that he had fallen asleep and was now being watched intensively by two teenaged queens.

"Hu? Oh, no, that's okay." He stretched out his back legs, rolling his ankles and making them pop. "Hi, Victoria. Hi…?" He trailed off, not being able to think of the other's name.

"Jem." The other one said.

"Oh, hi."

"Hi!" Jem answered enthusiastically. The two girls were sitting at the kitchen table, both facing him. They each had their head in a paw, and a straw, coming up from a pink drink, in their mouths. They moved almost in unison, as he had noticed many other young queens did, and they never took their eyes off of him.

"Um, so, you guys got lunch?" He asked awkwardly, his head hanging upside down again.

"Yeah." They said at the same time.

"Uh…" Tugger started.

"We'll leave in a sec, don't worry." At almost the same time, their drinks ran out, and they stood to put their glasses in the sink. "Whatcha been doin'?" Victoria continued. She started over to the living room, and her friend followed.

" Uh…" Is all Tugger could think of.

"Jeez, Mom and Dad said you got a concussion, but they didn't tell me you were this out of it." She smiled and opened yet another window, as if it wasn't bright enough in that house anyway. "Say something Uncle Tug, you're freakin' me out."

"Uh…I'm tired." It was almost a question, and he regretted saying it as soon as he did.

"How can you be tired, you've been asleep for the past two days…Oh! You were drunk weren't you? Yeah. Dad says that happens to you sometimes. But it's okay! You'll always have Jem and me to take care of you." Jem sat down in the chair opposite Tugger and was giggling wildly. "Oh my gosh, Jem, think about it!" Jem's attention was suddenly on her friend, but she continued to laugh. Tugger didn't want to know what it was they were thinking about. "Anyway, Uncle Tug, Mom says you'll be here for a while, and that I can't have any more that one or two friends over while you're here, but I know you won't mind, will you?" She looked at her uncle, and Jem followed her glance. Tugger froze. Who were her friends? Victoria, Jem…Oh, no.

"Actually," He faked a cough and yawned loudly. "I'm not feeling too good, Vic, maybe it would be best if you kept the friends to a minimum." He smiled wide, and she frowned.

"But Electra is _soooo_ looking forward to seeing you!" Victoria whined.

"Yeah, Mr. Tugger," Tugger was surprised to hear the formal greeting. Jem must have been the only kitten in the yard that even remotely respected him. "She's been, legit, crying. She needs to see you, like, ASAP."

"Well, tell her that I really, really—You know what? Take her a message, from me." He winked, and Jem's cheeks went pink. "C'mon, I'll tell you what to write. " Jem grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and sat ready. "Alright." He cleared his throat. "My dearest, dearest, Electra: How I long for your company as a bird longs for spring."

"You've got to be kidding me." Victoria crossed her arms and sat on the floor by the window.

"Each day without your face is like a day without sunlight, a day without air itself!" Tugger furrowed his brow and thought about more sickly-sweet love lines "Aha! Um…The only thing getting me through this time of pain, is the knowledge that on the other side of this vast tunnel of gloom, awaits you!" He paused to think once more. "Wait for me, Electra, and the second my arms are healed, you will be the first person I…" He thought hard. "Hey, what's that fancy word for 'hug'?"

"Embrace?" Victoria suggested.

"Yeah, yeah, that's it! Ok, um, '…you will be the first person I 'embrace'" He smiled a cocky smile before continuing. "For you alone are the one I adore. Love, yours forever, Tugsy…Yeah, make sure there's a 'y' on the end of that… And put a little heart afterwards… Yeah, perfect." Perfect indeed, Tugger thought to himself. He could be intellectual if he wanted to. He faked it all the time! He just needed to make his whole life one of his thousands of love notes.

"Are you done?" Victoria asked, apparently unimpressed with her uncle. Jem, on the other hand, was another story. She kept reading the letter over and over to herself, replacing "Electra" with her own name. By the fourth time, she was holding back tears.

Victoria stood to leave, and grabbed her friend by the arm. "Bye Uncle Tug." She said coldly.

"Good bye, Mr. Tugger! I love you! Good bye! Bet well soon! I love…" The voice faded away as the girls walked further and further away from the house. Tugger was left alone once again, with the only thing scarier than Electra: His own thoughts.


	4. Honesty

"_Get u-up…"_ A distant, sweet voice sang. _"C'mon, Tugger…Get u-up…" _ The voice persisted. _"C'mon now…Tugger…Get u-up…Before I have to pull you off that couch by your mane…"_

"Hu?" Tugger's eyes flew open, and met those of his sister-in-law.

"I said get up before I make you get up, Tugger." Demeter hissed. Tugger obeyed. It had been a week since Munkustrap had forced his (both physically and emotionally) maimed brother to stay in his den while his (physical) injuries healed. Tugger could now stand and walk without shooting pain running up his side, and the fur on the end of his tail was beginning to grow, but his arms would be bound for at least four more months.

Much to Demeter's chagrin, Tugger had made himself more or less at home. Munkustrap was happy that he had been able to stay out of trouble for seven whole days, and Tugger was happy that he had experienced seven whole days without his usual band of followers. That was, until dinner.

"Would you pass the cream, dear?" Demeter asked her daughter halfway through dinner. Victoria lifted the pitcher and passed it down past her uncle to the other side of the table. "Thank y—" She was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"I'll get it." Munkustrap stood up and walked towards the front of the house. "Can't imagine what anyone wants during the dinner hour." Munkustrap commented over his shoulder. _CLANG CLANG CLANG!_ "But whatever it is, they must want it now." The second Munkustrap opened the door, four squealing kittens ran into the living room screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Tugger!" They all shrieked as soon as they spotted him, and ran towards the kitchen. Tugger flinched, lifting his paws to his face and ducking.

"Hey!" Demeter stood. The girls stopped short. "Look, any other time, I would be more than happy to turn him over to your cult to use as some kind of living sacrifice, but this is dinner time." All four girls' jaws dropped. "And I can't have people in my house during dinner time." Tugger lowered his paws and looked through one eye at the scene unfolding. "So I ask you," Demeter continued. "Please take your little party back outside, and if I feel generous, I met let you in after dinner." The girls all nodded their heads and left the way they came.

"Uh…see you later….um…girls…" Munkustrap mumbled as they walked away.

"Bye Mr. Munkustrap." They said in unison as they marched off.

"Well…Um…Let's…" Munkustrap tried to explain to himself what had just happened. Demeter took his paw and sat him back down at the table.

"I told you we need to get him out of the den." She whispered through her teeth as she stepped back to her own seat. "And you," She pointed at Tugger. "Owe me the thanks of a lifetime." Tugger sat and stared at Demeter for the rest of dinner, saying not a word.

After dinner had been cleaned up, and Victoria had gone to bed, and Demeter had gone to her room to read, Tugger sat down on his couch, and Munkustrap went to sit with him.

"Can I help you?" Tugger asked. "I thought I was supposed to be resting. I did just have dinner; I need to rebuild my strength from the walk across the den." He crossed his arms and looked away from his brother.

"Look, I know this whole thing is getting on your nerves, and trust me it's getting on mine," Munkustrap sighed. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." He folded his paws and put his elbows on his knees, placing his head on his knuckles. "This evening, when the girls came," Tugger flinched and the thought. "Yes, well, I don't think I was the only one that noticed you got awful flustered." Tugger furrowed is brow. "Now, I'm going to ask you to do something you're not known for doing." Tugger raised his left eyebrow.

"I don't know what you want me to do, bro, but I'm not a fan of…" He let the last part of the sentence hang in suggestion.

"C'mon! Ew, no! Get your mind out of the gutter!" Tugger was laughing hysterically. "I'm serious, man, there are kittens in this house!"

"Fine, fine, fine, now what is itI'm not known for?" He asked in between chuckles.

"I want you to be honest."

"Hmm…that might be harder than what I was thinking about…" He snickered a little as Munkustrap's lip curled in disgust.

"I'm serious! You—" Munkustrap began, but he was cut off by his brother.

"See, that there is your problem. You're always so serious! You were serious when we were kittens! You've been serious forever, and you'll be serious until the day you die! I bet you—"

"A little serious is better than being a complete doofus!" Munkustrap screamed.

"If I'm a doofus, then you're a dweeb!" Tugger shot back.

"Lazy!"

"Dork!"

"Slack-off!"

"Nerd!"

"Failure!"

"Geek!" By the time they had gotten this far, they were both standing up, and had their noses right in each other's faces.

"I should have let you go home! I shouldn't have ev—" Munkustrap hollered, before being cut off.

"Uh…" Victoria stood in the doorway of the living room, staring at the two grown toms before her, including her father, squealing like kittens. "Do I…? Ya know what? I don't think I do." And she promptly turned back towards her room.

"See what you do?" Munkustrap hit his brother in the back of the head.

"What I do? What _I _do?" Tugger huffed. "I'm sorry for breaking my arms! You think I like being cooped up in _your_ den? It's not my fault I got hurt!"

"But it is!" Munkustrap cut in. "You were the one that went out; you were the one who almost got arrested; you were the one that hadn't settled down by now! So, yeah, it actually kinda is your fault!"

"I—" But Tugger couldn't think of what to say. He sat down on the couch and tried to cross his arms to the best of his abilities. After a few minutes of silence, he finally spoke. "I bet I'll regret asking you this, but…" Munkustrap sat down and stared at him. "Didn't you want to ask me something? I had to be honest or something?"

"Ah. Yes, well…" Munkustrap hemmed and hawed for a moment.

"Well, what? I know I'm not going to like the question anyway, so you might as well get on with it."

"Well, this evening, when the girls showed up…Tugger, do you really like being followed around by all of the kittens?" Munkustrap looked up at his brother, who even sitting down was considerably taller than him. Tugger wore a look of anxiety.

"Um…I…I don't know." Was all her could manage to say.


	5. Epiphany

**Author's Note:**** Okay, I know we almost had a turn around in chapter 2 I think, but it alas was not meant to be. It's a good this chapter 5 came along. I know that the past few chapters may have raised a few questions regarding character relationships in regards to the play versus my story and things like that, but I'm sorry to say, this chapter doesn't give you any answers. I was really selfish as I wrote this chapter, and I really made it al about the dialogue, simply because that's how I like to write, so I'm sorry if it gets confusing at any time. There is a lot of things in this chapter that might seem very much out of character, but don't get huffy, that's the point, it's supposed to be a turning moment. Finally, there is a dream within this chapter, but I think I made it pretty clear which part that is. I apologize if I don't get anything new up for a few days, it's kind of busy around here, but I promise I will have **_**something **_**up by the weekend at the latest. Please enjoy, and as always, review! **

"You don't know what, Tug?" Munkustrap asked.

"I…I just don't know." Tugger's head hung, and his eyes stared at the floor unblinking.

"You don't, do you?" Munkustrap asked curiously.

"I said I don't know." Tugger's head was swimming. His entire life was spent flirting with everyone that would let him, and being followed around by kittens. As long as he could remember, he had had a girlfriend, and even when he was a kitten, queens would always want to hang around him. But thinking back to all those times, all those hours spent surrounded by people he really didn't know too well, he began to realize that those weren't particularly happy times.

"Tugger?" Munkustrap asked, poking his brother in the shoulder.

"Hm?" Tugger had checked out, as he often did when he thought too much.

"Do you know now?" Only his brother knew that those minutes of completely spacing out were when Tugger's best ideas, and greatest epiphanies, came into being.

"Um, I…" Tugger began. "I think I need a minute." He didn't move when his brother stood to go. And he didn't move when Demeter came out to the kitchen an hour later to turn off the light. In fact, he didn't move until he fell asleep in that very same position, and fell back onto the couch…

"_Wait, where am I?" Tugger sat up quickly. His arms were free, and his back wasn't stiff, but something wasn't right. He had no idea where he was, but where ever he had ended up, it was dark. "Hello?" Tugger called out. "Is anyone here?" Suddenly, a little light appeared in front of him. He began to run towards it. _

"_Wait, Tugger." Munkustrap was suddenly running beside him. "Will this make you happy?" His voice echoed in the deep darkness, and Tugger kept running. "Think, Tugger. Think about your life. Think about your family. Think about your future…"_

"_I don't want to think about that now!" Tugger panted as he kept running. "I just want to get out of here!" His legs began to fatigue, and his breathing became shallower, but the light seemed no closer than it had the first time it appeared._

"_Where are you going?" Munkustrap asked._

"_Away from here!" Tugger coughed._

"_Where is here?" Munkustrap persisted._

"_I don't know!" Tugger was beginning to feel faint._

"_Then how do you know where you're going?" Munkustrap asked calmly, keeping in perfect stride with Tugger._

"_I don't know, okay? I don't know!" He panted onwards. "I don't know, alright, I just don't know! I don't know! I don't know! I don't know! I don't…"_

"Tugger, get up." Demeter was hanging over him, with a menacing look on her face.

"I don't know!" Tugger jumped up, panting.

"If you don't know how to get up, I think you're beyond the care of our couch." Demeter strutted away towards the kitchen.

"It was…And I'm…" He looked down at his paws, still panting, and sighed with relief. They were just as restricted as ever, bound to the elbows. "It was all a dream." He looked around the living room. "It was all a dream, and now I'm here, and you're here," he kissed the top of Victoria's head as he danced through the kitchen. "And you're—" He went to hug Munkustrap before stopping short. "You!"

"What'd I do now?" Munkustrap asked between sips of coffee.

"You…!" Tugger pointed a paw at him, smiling cynically. "You made me think!" Tugger took a step towards him, and Munkustrap took a step back. "You made me look at things from a whole different perspective!" Tugger through his paws in the air. "You wouldn't tell me how to get to that little light!"

"Has he gone crazy, Ma?" Victoria asked through her teeth as Demeter put a bowl of sugar on the table.

"Yeah, probably." Demeter shrugged.

"I'm not crazy!" Tugger hollered. "I know it was a dream! But it was till your fault!" Munkustrap scooted his way around Tugger's flailing paws to his seat at the end of the table. "I was perfectly fine, living in my own little world. 'Ignorance is bliss' they say, and now I know what it means!" Tugger took a breath and slammed down a mug of coffee in one gulp before continuing. "I realized something last night! I realized that I'm miserable!" He was laughing. "I realized that I live a sham of a life, and that I need to change my ways or I'm going to die alone, in my dark den, probably fat and with no fur on the back of my head! I'll look like Dad! But at least they respect _his _fatty baldness!"

"Is Uncle Tug gonna get kicked out for saying stuff like this about Old Deuteronomy?" Victoria asked her mother discreetly.

"No, it's not that bad because he's their father…He might get a time out, though." Demeter laughed to herself as she quietly ate her breakfast, watching her brother in law scream like an absolute ninny.

"…And worst of all, the second I loose my sex appeal no ones even going to want to talk to me, forget settle down and have a family!"

"Ma," Victoria started. "What's sex app—?"

"—Have another grape, dear." Demeter said as she put her paw over her daughter's mouth.

"Tugger." Munkustrap said.

"…And then no one will even…"

"Tugger!" Munkustrap tried again.

"…Which will make me the only…"

"RUM TUM TUGGER, FOR THE LOVE OF THE EVERLASTING, PLEASE SHUT UP!" Munkustrap cleared his throat and patted the seat next to him calmly. "Now," He coughed again. "Excuse me—As I was saying, this is a very good thing Tugger."

Sitting down, Tugger began to speak again, before Munkustrap stopped him. "We've been trying to tell you this for the better part of the past ten years. Now you finally get it." Munkustrap was smiling from ear to ear. Tugger was more that a little bothered. "Now," Munkustrap took a long pause. "You can do something about it."

Tugger's mouth was hanging open, and his eyes were watering, and his paws were shaking. "Maybe I should sit down." He began to stand, but Munkustrap took his arm.

"No, no, no. You're going to sit here and have some of this delicious breakfast my wife made, and then we're going to your place."

Tugger began to think of all the reasons why that would be a bad idea, but bit his tongue and decided not to share them with his brother. "Okay." He said calmly, before pouring himself a bowl of cereal in silence.


	6. Phantom of the Junkyard

**Author's Note:**** I'm so sorry it took me so long to write, I've kind of hit a wall. I did, however, see "Phantom of the Opera" a few days ago, and I felt compelled to make some reference in my story. This chapter tells you nothing and is very disconnected from the rest of the story, and I'm sorry for that. I wrote this in 30 minutes because I hadn't written anything in a long time. I am forever thankful to Andrew Lloyd Webber for the two best plays of all time, and to all of the people actually reading this. Enjoy, and please review!**

"Wow…" Sighed Munkustrap, as he stepped down a set of creaky stairs into Tugger's dark den. "Have you ever seen 'The Phantom of the Opera'?" He picked up one of dozens of half-melted birthday candles—Tugger's sad attempt at being romantic—and pointed it at his brother. "Because, I swear, I'm getting some serious déjà vu here." Munkustrap continued to wade through a sea of blankets, pillows, and other pieces of fabric, desperately searching for a window. He could barely see his paw in front of his face. . "I'm serious, this is really creepy. I mean I haven't been down here in years, and it was a disaster since we left Dad's den, but—"

"Okay! I get your point! It's a mess! Why are we here anyway? I thought you had condemned me to your couch until my arms healed."

"I had," Munkustrap said as he combed through a pile of sports magazines. "And you are, but I just wanted to show you the difference between my den and yours…" He trailed off; transitioning to his stern, lecturing tone, into the deep, rumbling singing voice Tugger had become re-acclimated to. He hadn't heard his brother sing this much since they were kittens, and now it seemed he never stopped. _"Sing once again with me, our strange duet…"_

"No singing in my den." Tugger spat, sitting down in a bean bag in the darkest corner of his home.

"Fine," Munkustrap stopped, but continued to comb through the clutter that seemed to almost hold up the walls. "…This can't be healthy, Tug." Munkustrap held up a dish of cream.

"What?" Tugger could see nothing wrong with it…until Munkustrap proceeded to turn the dish upside down, and the cream didn't move. "Whatever."

"Look, Phantom, I see the appeal of…this…well, actually that's a lie, but I see _your_ appeal to all of this. But you can't spend your life like this."

"You don't think I know that?" Tugger sighed. "I'll work on it. I'll be back at your place by dinner." Tugger watched his brother leave, feeling worse and worse by the second. He did remember seeing "The Phantom of the Opera" with his brother and Gus when they were teenagers. Even though he slept through the first act and the better part of the second, he knew how it ended. If he didn't deal with his issues, remove the mask he had created to protect him from the world, he'd never be happy. Long ago he had been hurt, and it had left him forever changed, but unlike the Phantom, he had an opportunity to rewrite the past and change his future…

Feeling solemn, but determined, Tugger rose to go back to Munkustrap's den, when he stepped on something that stopped him in his tracks. He bent down slowly and picked up a wilted red rose that one of the girls had given him a very long time ago. As he placed it on the only table in his den, each and every one of the petals dropped off the stem. He rubbed his temples and headed out, cursing people as he walked. He cursed Gus for taking him to the show. He cursed Munkustrap for bringing him here, as good an intension it was. And finally, he cursed whoever wrote "Phantom of the Opera" for making him a liar. He had worked on nothing, and was going home in no better condition then he had left.

"Damn…" He said, stepping out into the light of the junkyard, trying to think of the name of that writer. "Gah…!" He wracked his brain and sighed. "Munkustrap will know. He cares about this kind of useless crap…"


	7. The Note

**Author's Note:**** Hello, world! I am very happy; for once again, I have been inspired! This time, by myself! I wrote a little poem, and I knew that it would be great if I could slide it into a story, and I did! Ok, so I was expecting a little more about the last chapter, but that's okay, it wasn't great plot-wise, so here's chapter 7! I answered a few question's here, and I think we've come to the turning point! *Warning* I continue to be haunted by "The Phantom of the Opera" so the next few chapters may be a little dark. But that's okay, I like dark! I hope you enjoy, and as always, please review! (Really, I'm begging, and I am unbelievably grateful to everyone who has.)**

"Get out of my room, Tugger!" Munkustrap hollered. His brother had gone down the hall to the bathroom twenty minutes ago, and had started messing with his desk—again.

"What _is_ all this crap?" Tugger yelled across the den as he shuffled through a pile of paper on Munkustrap's desk clumsily.

"Papers!" Munkustrap answered loudly over the piano.

"No shoot, Sherlock. I mean, what are they?" He picked one up gently between his paws. It had been almost three weeks, and this no-finger thing was getting on his nerves. He read the tattered document slowly…

"Eh. A bunch of stuff: Mostly work, some scraps, a couple of little things Demeter has written for me, some personal stu—" With that he jumped from the bench and sprinted faster than he had in years to his room in the back of the den. "I swear, Tug, if anything looks even the least bit read, I will—Tug?" He searched the room from his spot in the doorway, poised, ready to attack, but his brother wasn't there. The desk was messy, but no more than usual; the desk chair had been pushed in, and the pillows on the floor were in Demeter's usual neat pile. The window, which stretched from the floor to the ceiling, however, was wide open. He stepped out onto his make-shift deck and looked over the junkyard. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Electra, Victoria, and Etcetera. "Girls!" He called, and started waving his arms. When he caught their attention, Victoria groaned and threw her head back, and Electra and Etcetera stood in polite respect. "Girls, have any of you seen my broth—um—Tugger?"

Electra and Etcetera's eyes widened. "He's out?" Electra asked excitedly. "You've freed him?" They said again, together, this time.

"Nice one, Dad!" Victoria stomped off in pursuit of her friends, who were themselves, in pursuit of Tugger.

"I can't believe you don't like him even the littlest bit, Vic!" Electra cried.

"He's my uncle…" Victoria replied.

"Yeah, but the ball…?" Etcetera prodded.

"Can we not talk about that—fiasco!—okay? Never underestimate the power of a mob mentality. It can make a person do some…" His daughter's voice trailed off as she trotted off with her friends.

"Are they gone?" A voice whispered quietly from around a hill of tires. Munkustrap jumped.

"Yeah, Tug." He sighed heavily. "What are you doing back there?" Munkustrap climbed over the rubbish, and crouched down next to his squatting brother.

"Well, first I was hiding from you—" He pointed to the paper sitting on the ground between his paws and gave a weak, guilty, laugh. "—and then I was hiding from them." Once again, he snickered.

"This is crazy. You're hiding from little girls, Tug. You need to stop the madness. Is there really no one that you've had a real connection with, or is it all just shallow, meaningless, week-or-less relationships—if you can even call them that?" He reached down for the paper while he let Tugger think. When he picked it up, he immediately recognized that it was very old. The paper was worn thin, and seemed to have been folded many times in many different places. He turned it over to the front, or rather what he thought was the front, and saw that it was blank. He flipped it once again and saw that the other side was no better. Tugger watched Munkustrap nervously as he flipped and re-flipped the paper over and over again. "What is this Tugger?" Munkustrap asked, standing up straight, his brother following his lead.

"Well, that, my friend would be a—" And then he grabbed the sheet between his teeth and ran. Climbing over the tires around him, Tugger shot across the clearing down towards the stream, and his den. Munkustrap cleared the pile just as fast, but found it harder than he had thought it would be to keep up with Tugger's sprint. When he reached the door of Tugger's den, he grabbed the handle and pulled down, but as it had so many times before, it barely jerked. It had been locked.

"TUGGER!" Munkustrap screamed into the wood. "What is that paper? I know it's something that's gonna get you in trouble! You wouldn't be running if it wasn't!" He took in a large breath. "TUGGER!" He pounded on the door, and continued to scream.

On the other side of the door, Tugger walked blindly through his pitch black den, relying on memory alone to get him from the two steps down and across the room littered with random pieces of furniture and scraps of fabric. He sat down in the overstuffed chair in the corner, and pulled a string hanging in front of him. A small piece of plastic was dislodged from its place in the ceiling, letting in a small, focused stream of light. He moved the paper so the light shone brightly on it, then flipped it over again and—

Tugger heard a loud crack and two or three staggered bumps before a final, soft, thud. Munkustrap had broken his door down. "WHAT THE HELL?" Tugger screamed, standing quickly and letting the paper fall to the floor. Munkustrap didn't notice.

"Where's that paper?" Munkustrap was in his face, a finger prodding him in the chest. Tugger looked down, not daring to move, for fear of Munkustrap attacking him—if not out of anger, out of instinct. Munkustrap bent down, not releasing Tugger's gaze, and picked it up. He looked it over once again. He still found nothing. "What is this, Tug?"

"Move your finger." Tugger snarled.

"I'm not moving a muscle until you tell me what you want with this."

"Move you finger!"

"I said, I'm not move—"

"OTHER…" Tugger took in a breath to calm himself. "…Finger." Munkustrap lifted the finger he was grasping the paper with, and well enough, there was the smallest bit of the tiniest writing he had ever seen in the corner. "I found that in a box labeled 'Dem.'"

"Yeah, that's Demeter's stuff." Munkustrap squinted to try and read the messy, small, script.

"Well, I found this there."

"What about it. It's probably a note she wrote herself…a while ago." Munkustrap stared back at his brother.

"No." Was all Tugger could say.

"Oh, then what is it?" Munkustrap's eyes flitted back and forth from the mysterious paper.

"It's a note." Tugger said calmly.

"Well, I can see that. Why do you want it?" Munkustrap's left eyebrow rose, and he stepped back, noticing he still had his index finger pressed into his brother's fur.

"I wrote it." Tugger snatched the paper from him. "It's a note, to Demeter, from me." Tugger held the paper a few inched from his eyes and began to read in a quivering voice. "Fate is cruel and night is blind. I know I cannot have you, and, yet, I still try. Until I can try no longer, until I can't remember how, until the impossible changes, but, then, I know it won't ever now. If that makes me seem insane, if you think I'm lost without a cause, think of those you know and love, then think of life if they just…were not…" Munkustrap stared at his brother, standing knee-deep in trash, bathed in light this room had never seen, holding the paper with the stumps the casts made of his hands, and reading this tired old paper in a voice he had never heard. "You were right, Munk, there was one person that meant more than the others, but she can't be mine now…" He sighed sadly and fell into his chair again. "…because she's yours."


	8. I Didn't Write That

Tugger let his head fall to his chest, and waited for the screaming to start. But after a moment, he realized it didn't. He looked up tentatively through one eye and saw that his brother had fallen to the floor, and was sitting cross-legged staring into space. Tugger sat up and looked down at him. Munkustrap was breathing shallowly, and he looked he had been kicked in the stomach. His face had gone pale, and his jaw hung open as if he was planning to say something, but forgot what it was. Finally, he took in a deep breath and spoke. "Tugger, you…you…you and…and…my…my…" He trailed off as he ran out of breath.

"Spit it out. There's no use hiding it now." Tugger stood and stretched carefully.

"You and my…_you_ and my…you, _The Rum Tum Tugger_, and my…" He had lifted one paw and was prodding the air in front of him with a finger pointed in his brother's general direction. He took in a deep breath again. "You and…" In the middle of his thought, he sprang up, grabbed the paper and dashed back to his den. Behind him, a fading voice was calling his name. He climbed a pile of tires and leaped down to the center of the yard in one bound. He was running on adrenalin and adrenalin alone. He felt his heart racing in his chest, and his knees were beginning to tighten. Running even faster, his breath was growing shallower and shallower. Time, though, seemed to be slowing. His mind was swirling. _When?_ He thought. _I've been with Demeter since we were kittens!_ _He used to flirt with her a little, but he flirted with everything that moved! Tugger's got to be lying! He's _got_ to be lying! But if he's lying, then why am I running? _He gasped. _Because he's not lying!_ A long forgotten memory flooded his mind…

"_If that's how you feel, then maybe we shouldn't be getting married at all!" Demeter screamed._

_ "Fine! Go! See if anyone goes looking for you!" Munkustrap shouted back. She slammed the door to the small den he and Tugger shared as she left. He paced the floor in anger and frustration. He barely noticed that the front door open and closed twice as he grumbled and continued to pace. Four hours later, Munkustrap was feeling more sad than anything else, and finally, there was a light knock from the front of the den. He came running into the living room from his bedroom and pushed Tugger out of the way, knocking him carelessly to the ground. He pulled the door open with such force he feared it would fall off the hinges, but he didn't care; on the other side of that door was Demeter with her arms wide open. She grabbed him around the neck and they hugged for a long time. "I'm sorry." Munkustrap whispered in her ear. He heard a small whimpering noise, and he thought it was Demeter, even though it didn't really sound like her, and she wasn't crying. Tugger was gone from where he had fallen, Munkustrap noticed, as he and Demeter moved over towards the couch… _

The rest was a blur. Except…The note! Demeter had a note in her hands when she came through the door. He had thought nothing about it at the time, but now he realized how important it was. Nearing his house, he skidded to a stop, digging his heals into he ground. The note was still crumpled up in his hands. He flew open the door and locked it behind him, panting all the while. He read it over again. The small, delicate writing was neither his nor Demeter's, but it certainly couldn't have been Tugger's…

"Honey!" He screamed between breaths. "Demey!" He ran to the back of the house, and found her reading at his desk.

"What's wrong?" Her brow furrowed as she put down the book.

"Honey," He took in a breath. "Dear, what is this?" He held up the paper to her and she took it, looking it over curiously. She, like Munkustrap had, flipped it from front to back, searching for something.

"I don't know, dear, what is it?" He took back the note and folded it a few times until it was just a small square with the tiny poem on it. Demeter grabbed it and read it carefully. Slowly a smile grew on her face. She put it down on the table and hugged Munkustrap tightly. "You're so sweet!" She kissed him lightly on the lips and continued to read. Munkustrap was flabbergasted*. He stared at her, still holding up the note, and began to babble. Demeter put her book down once again. "What, Munk?"

"What _is_ this?" He pointed to the note with exasperation.

"Don't play stupid, dear, it's not very becoming. This," She took the note and looked at it with tender nostalgia. "is the poem that saved our marriage." She smiled and tucked it back in the box bearing her monogram gently. "Why'd you take it out?"

"Because I didn't write that!" He stood up and pointed at the box like it was diseased.

"What are you talking about? Of course you did! When I ran off that night, you came and dropped this off at my mom's den. When I got there, she handed it to me, and said, 'a certain young tom,' brought it for me. Who could it have been if it wasn't you?" She had her arm on his shoulder, and Munkustrap's stomach dropped as he realized he'd have to tell her who it was. He'd have to tell her it was the one cat in the whole yard she disliked. He'd have to tell her that the flirt, the dirt of the tribe, the tom she regularly threatened to feed to the kittens, wrote her the poem that she had kept as a token of their love for the past twenty years.

"Um…" Munkustrap began.

"Just, tell me, Munk." Demeter looked into his eyes like she was searching his soul for an answer.

"It was Tugger."


	9. I Hate You, Too

**Author's Note:**** *Sniff* I'm sorry; I'm too emotional after writing this chapter to come up with a proper author's note. *Sniff* Pleaser review. *Sniff* We're nearing the end. *Sniff* All hail ALW and all that good stuff… *Sniff***

After his brother left, Tugger leaded up against the doorframe. It would be a while before Munkustrap could convince Demeter to kill him, and even longer if he had to convince her not to. Either way, Tugger had a minute to be alone. It seemed to him that he'd been alone a lot lately. Staying with Munkustrap, he had been surrounded by so many people, that when they left, he felt very lonely. He supposed he had been alone for so long, he had just gotten used to it, but now it felt odd and uncomfortable to be without company for very long. _That poem._ He thought. _Why did I ever write that!_ But he knew why. He knew that he loved Demeter. He knew that she loved his brother, and even worse, hated him. He knew what actually happened that night, a week before Munkustrap and Demeter's wedding, and that it had been his secret for the past twenty years, and now it was all going to be out in the open. He knew Munkustrap would never speak to him again; he knew Demeter would hate him even more; he knew he'd never find someone to love a lying, flirting, messy tom like him. He tried futilely to pick up the door and prop it up against the wall, but with his casts, it was almost impossible. He sauntered over to his chair once again, but just before he sat down, a clear voice, sweet even through anger called his name out.

"TUGGER!" He heard stomping feet on hard, sun dried earth and then, "TUGGER!" once again. He walked with heavy feet over to the door again, and stood ready, preparing himself for what was to be the worst experience of his fairly short life. Rounding the final corner to Tugger's den, Demeter hollered his name again. "TUGGER!" Her face was beat red, and Munkustrap was fast behind her looking no happier. Finally making it within ten feet of his door, but not daring to go any further, she held up the paper. "YOU WROTE THIS?" She creamed.

"Yes." Tugger said, hanging his head.

"WHY?"

"Because you were hurt, and I couldn't stand to see you like that. Because I had grown to love you, like more than a sister-in-law. Because I thought you'd come running through the front door, and I'd be the one with my arms open, saying I love you. Because there was a time when I wrote you poems every day, until you met my brother. But everyone loves Munkustrap. I thought you would be the different one. I guess I was wrong." Tugger turned and started to step down into his den.

"Tugger!" Demeter called. He looked back over his shoulder. She took a step forward. He turned around, and she walked the few feet between them. She had the note in her hands. She opened her mouth to read it, but he shook his head, and she stopped. She was short, and he was tall, and it was almost impossible for them to look each other in the eye without Demeter craning her neck, or Tugger slouching over. He took a deep breath, and cursed his broken wrists. He wanted nothing more to grab Demeter around the waist and hug her tight, but he could not. She was close enough, though, in fact, she was very close. He let out a sigh. _What could Munkustrap be thinking?_ Demeter shifted her weight, her fur rubbing up against his arm. _Who cared?_ With a clear, firm voice he very seldom used, he spoke the poem he had written more than two decades ago, completely by heart.

"Fate is cruel and…" He said.

"Stop, Tug." Demeter cut him off, her voice was no longer angry.

"…and night is blind, I know I cannot have you…" He continued, ignoring Demeter's pleading tone, and not daring to look her in the eyes. "…and yet, I still try."

"You're not helping either of us, Tugger." Demeter sniffed.

"Until I can try no longer, until I can't remember how…"

"I said, stop Tugger, it's not going to do anything but hurt you even more." Her breathing was becoming shaky, and her eyes were watering.

"Until the impossible changes, but, then, I know it won't ever now…" Tugger's nose began to run, and he paused to clear his voice.

"I hate you, Tugger." She snarled through staggered breaths. "You know that, right?" She dabbed her eyes with her paws. "I'm always gonna hate you. You're a pig…"

"…If that makes me seem insane, if you think I'm lost without a cause…."

"You're the lowest of the low…" She was sobbing quietly.

"…Think of those you know and love…"

"You're a flirting, showy, terrible, heart—" Her words were cut of with a low whimper.

"Then think of life…"

"Heart—" She couldn't bring herself to say the word.

"If they just…" Tugger's voice never wavered.

"Heart—"

"Were not…"

"Heartbreaker!" She blurted out between sobs. She stood there standing in front of Tugger, her head in her paws, unable to move. Tugger, against all better judgment, took his paws, hard and cold as the casts made them, and wrapped them around Demeter's shoulders. She grabbed him and hugged him tight, continuing to cry.

"I should have never left you." He whispered so Munkustrap couldn't hear. "I was young and cocky."

"You're still cocky!" Demeter sobbed into his chest.

"I know. It kind of became a hobby. I figured if I got enough people's attention, eventually I'd get yours back."

"Well you were wrong!" She said again.

"I was really wrong. What I didn't figure was that someone else would get your attention first. And you know me, once I start a habit, it's hard to break."

"I hate you, Tugger." She whispered into his fur. But she squeezed him even tighter.

"I know."


	10. Everyone's Fault

**Author's Note:**** I apologize for the pitiful length of what I can only describe as a chap-let. It is very late, I am very tired, and there is really not a whole lot left to say—for now. Please review, I'm sorry if you feel it's becoming a little soap-opera-ish. I like to write like that. I hope to update soon. Goodnight… **

Munkustrap stood frozen about twenty feet from the scene unfolding. Tugger, the most narcissistic, immature, thoughtless tom he knew, was standing with his bandaged arms around Demeter—_Munkustrap's _wife!—who was crying into Tugger's chest over a poem. A poem, that for years, Demeter thought Munkustrap had written. A poem, that for years, Demeter thought was what had saved her marriage. And now, that was all crumbling. Munkustrap was paralyzed, unable to move, but his mind was racing; Demeter was caught somewhere between anger and overwhelming sadness; and for the first time in a long while, Tugger felt sort of…happy. True, his brother was either going to beat him senseless, or never talk to him again—which he would prefer, he couldn't decide—and true, the love of his life, even up to that very day, was so distraught she was sobbing uncontrollably, but somehow it felt right. Demeter had come to him once again, and Munkustrap was on the sidelines like the wimpy, spineless, nerdy, bossy, life-destroying—

"WAIT!" Munkustrap yelled. The ground seemed to shake, and though she didn't stop crying, Demeter's attention was caught, and she quickly pushed back from Tugger.

"What, Munk?" Tugger asked indignantly. "Can't stand to have things back the way they were, can you? Can't stand for things to be the way they were before you had _authority_? Can't stand to see things the way they should have been?" He took a step forward and slipped his arm around Demeter's shoulder. Demeter pushed him away, slowly gathering herself, but still crying none the less.

"Get away from me!" She screamed between sobs. "You tricked me!" She turned and walked towards Munkustrap, her back now facing Tugger. "You lied!" She stepped closer to Munkustrap, his arms now reaching towards her. "You tried to take advantage of our fight! You tried to split us up!" She closed the gap between her and Munkustrap, now hugging him tightly.

"If it weren't for that note, you would have never gotten back together! If it weren't for me—"

"Yes we would have!" Munkustrap interrupted. "If you weren't off gallivanting with every single queen in the yard, you would know that we had fights like those weekly! We would have gotten back together, and you would have been saved a whole lot of trouble. I should—!"

"You should what, Munk? Have me kicked out? I'll let you know that you'd two would have never gotten together if it weren't for me! I broke up with her! She ran to you for consolation!" Tugger stopped to catch his breath. " But.." He was breathing heavily, and his arms were out to his side, flailing every time he spoke. "But I…" He drew in a deep breath. "I made a mistake. And I tried to cover it up, by pretending it never happened—by pretending no relationship ever happened! By pretending…" He sniffed and tried to wipe a watery eye with his elbow. "And in the end, trying to be something I wasn't is what lost you forever. I tried to play Munk, and be the deep, thoughtful, caring, creative one that everyone seemed to love. But I was too good at it. You went running back to him…"

Demeter had stopped crying. Her eyes were still red, but she was breathing normally and could speak clearly once again. "Tugger, I'm sorry, I…"

"No, it's not your fault. It's mine. I lied to the one I loved a long time ago, and I have punished myself for that ever since. I guess I never stopped pretending." He sighed. He had known this about his life for years, but telling the rest of the world, getting it off his chest, felt good. Like a weight was lifted. Like a storm had come and cleansed him. He didn't know what he was going to do with the rest of his life, but he knew what he was going to do right now. "Munkustrap, in a week I get these casts taken off, and I promise you that I will never bother you or…" He looked pained as he said her name. "…Demeter ever again. Tell Victoria and her friends that I will no longer accept the mob that usually follows me." He turned towards his den. "I'll be here if you need me…if anyone ever needs me…" His voice trailed off. "…not like they will." He began down the steps into his home, not bothering to try with the door anymore.

"Tug…" Demeter ran over to the den, but she couldn't find Tugger. He had hidden in the deepest corner of the room, where even the light from the door could not reach. She picked up the door and propped it against the frame, watching as the room grew dark again. As she left, she stepped on the folded paper she had dropped in her hysterics. She opened it, and read the tiny print one more time, before crumpling it in her paws and wedging it among the bits trash that made up the outside walls of Tugger's den.

"Are you aright, dear?" Munkustrap asked as Demeter as she walked to his side.

"Yeah. I'm not so sure about…" She glanced over her shoulder.

"Me either." He said, and they walked towards their home.


	11. Cookies

**Author's Note:**** I love this chapter so much, and I hope you do, too. I put a lot of effort into making it really cute, emotional, and a little fluffy, but at the same time progressing with the plot. I pulled in my favorite character—briefly—and even though he's a bit out of character, he's there! You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll review (please!)! It will be wonderful! Enjoy!**

"Why are you doing this?" Mistofelees asked Victoria. They'd only been dating for a month or two, and he hated being dragged along on her family outings.

"Because he's family, and he's hurting. Now hold this." She handed him a plate of cookies as she slipped on her coat.

"Well, everyone swears that I'm related to Bustopher—Heaviside knows I don't see it!—but you don't see me bringing him cookies every time he has one of his melt downs!" And with the economy the way it was, that had been rather often.

"Well, you should!" She took back the cookies and he held the front door open for her. The entire den smelled like she had been baking, and Mistofelees was more than a bit disappointed when Victoria had said it wasn't for him.

"I don't even like your uncle! Come to think of it, I don't know a tom—besides your dad—who does! Why can't we take these cookies down to the lake," He took her paw. "And have a nice, worry free, Tugger free after noon?" He kissed her paw gently before she pulled it away giggling.

"Because," She said, still laughing. "He's getting those casts off tomorrow, and he needs to know that not everyone has shunned him."

"But everyone _has _shunned him!" Victoria thumped him on the back of the head.

"No they haven't! _I _haven't, my _dad_ hasn't, my _mom_…" She stopped to think for a second. "Yeah my mom has…But _you_ haven't! C'mon, be nice."

"Why can't you take Electra, or Etcetera, or Jem, or one of your girlfriends?"

"Because, I want to make him feel better, not get him eaten alive. Beside, you're going to help him fix his door."

"Oh, no I'm not!" He skidded to a halt.

"Yes, you are." She grabbed his arm, and began dragging him along beside her. "Besides, think about it, when we're married, and Uncle Tug is at the wedding, don't you want him toasting his new nephew, that even before they were related, was the kindest, gentlest, most generous, most thoughtful person he knew?" She stopped and gave him a peck on the cheek. Mistofelees practically melted.

"Yeah…" A wide, goofy smile spread across his face. "I suppose you're right…" He chuckled.

"Good. Oh, would ya looky there! We're here! Hold theses." She ran up to her uncle's house and tapped lightly on the door. "Uncle Tug?" She moved it aside gently. "Uncle Tug, it's Victoria—" Misto coughed outside. "And your old buddy Misto. We brought cookies!" She stepped inside the den. "Hello?" Mistofelees came up beside her, clutching the tray of cookies close to him.

"Hey, Tug!" He called. "I can't believe anyone could live in such total darkness. There's not a single window in here." He took a step down into the den, handing the tray back to Victoria, and searching blindly for anything that could produce any light. Suddenly, he stepped on something hard and round. As he fell, his claw hooked on to string hanging from the ceiling. As he hit the ground, the string pulled on a piece of cardboard, freeing it from the ceiling, and let in a wide stream of light.

"Misto!" Victoria set down the tray on one of the steps and ran over to her boyfriend. "Are you okay? What did you step on? What did you pull to—whoa…" The den was almost completely empty. The floor was clean, and the walls were free from the papers that had hung on them since the den had been inhabited. Victoria hadn't been in here many times, and it had been a while, but she knew that this was definitely a change. There was only a single pillow and a small, wooden chair in the room. It smelt nice, and that nice, unrecognized smell was starting to blend with that of the cookies.

"I think I'm fine. What did I trip—hey, look!" Mistofelees pointed over to the bottom of the steps. There, lying almost undetectable, were two worn, dirty casts. Mistofelees walked over and picked one up. The ends were frayed, like someone had chewed on them, and one had a ragged line cut down the center. "Looks like he chewed one off, and cut the other." There was a small sliver pairing knife on the chair next to them.

"Good work, Sherlock." Mistofelees gave her a sarcastic grin, and she smiled back cheekily. "But where'd he go?" Victoria stuck her head out the large window, and surveyed the land behind it. It was easily the nicest view in the yard: it opened to a large, green-ish field, scattered here and there with trash blown off of the main piles, there were two trees that flowered when they felt like it, and in the distance—maybe a quarter mile or so off—there was a large, clear pond. Victoria stretched her neck to see farther. It was then she spotted a small, black figure sitting on the edge of the pond, throwing pebbles into the water. "Misto!" Victoria whispered loudly. "I found him!" Mistofelees walked over to her, and stuck his head out, too.

"Hey, yeah!" He put up his arm and began to wave it. "Hey Tugg—!"

"Shut up!" Victoria put her paw over his mouth. "Grab the cookies, follow me, and be quiet!" She pulled herself on to the roof of her Uncle's den, and slid down to the ground gracefully. She jogged towards her uncle quietly, Mistofelees in tow behind her with the plate of now, undoubtedly squished, cookies. When she got close enough that he could hear her if she spoke, she slowed to a walk and slunk carefully down until she was just a few feet behind him. "Um, Tugger, I—" She was cut off by Tugger standing up, turning around, and grabbing her in a choking hug so fast that she didn't even have time to think.

"Oh, Demeter! I knew you'd come back! I knew you'd choose me over my stiff of a brother!" He was holding her tightly, an his eyes were closed, almost crying. "I knew you'd find it in your heart to forgive me! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" he continued to hug her, but when he let go and went to kiss her, he stopped short. "Agh! Victoria!" He stepped back. I'm really sorry! You know you sound just like…like…just like…" He sighed, and gave up trying to say her name. "What are you doing here, anyway?" He sat back down on the edge of the pond and put his head in his paws.

"Misto and I brought you a little present." She smiled and waited for her boyfriend to appear behind her. He didn't. "Misto!" She called up the hill. He was sitting pleasantly in one of the trees, clutching the cookies like they were a life preserver, and he was about to jump into the ocean.

"Fine." He said unenthusiastically. He jumped down, with precision like a jungle cat, landing on three paws, and holding the tray in one above his head.

"I used to be able to do that." Tugger whined. "Before I became old and undesirable." He began to sniff. "I used to be able to do anything!" He wiped his eyes with his paw. "Anything! Anyone! I could do it all!" He began to sob quietly.

"Okay then! I don't need the gory details of your childhood, Tugger. Enjoy the cookies, Vic and I are out."

"No we're not!" Victoria grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. He reeled, and once again landed on his tail. "Look, Uncle Tug, there are plenty of queens in the yard that would be lucky to be your mate!" Victoria grew nauseas at the thought, but continued. "I mean, there has to be one person that you really, really like! Think hard about it." She put a paw on his shoulder. After a minute of awkward silence, Tugger began crying again.

"YOUR MOTHER!" Tugger sobbed. Victoria smacked her paw to her forehead in exasperation.

"Someone _else?_" Victoria pushed.

"No! There's no one else!" Tugger wailed. Mistofelees climbed back into the tree and tried to cover his ears.

"Uh…Cassandra?"

"She dumped me when she heard I got arrested."

"Bomba?"

"She scares me a little. To intense for my taste." Victoria's head dropped.

"Jenny!" Victoria suggested!

"Twice my age."

"Jem!"

"Half my age."

"Um…Jelly?"

"Married."

"Teazer!"

"Aren't she and Cori an item?"

"I thought she was with Jerrie?"

"I thought they're siblings?"

"Maybe."

"Anyway, no." Victoria groaned.

"Um…Electra?"

"No way."

"And why not? She's not so young! She's older than me! And she's not _as_ big of a freak as her sister! It's perfect! She loves you!" Victoria patted her uncle on the back.

"No she doesn't. She's in love with the façade. She's in love with _The Rum Tum Tugger! _Not, _the_ real me."

"Well, what's 'the real you'?"


	12. Update

**Author's Update:**** Hello. This is me. I have no story for you today and possibly for a while. A few minutes ago, my computer restarted without warning, and I lost five pages and six hours of work. I will tell you that I am on the verge of tears, and am in no position to be re-writing it now…at 9:30pm…on a school night…I'm serious, I'm about to cry. I hope you have a nice week, and I will try to bring myself back to writing. I thank all of my faithful readers for being patient. Good night.**


	13. Gray

**Author's Note:**** It's no where near as amazing as it was before…the accident…but it's okay. I don't love where this has gone, but I do love all the metaphors and the like. I've sort of hit a wall, but I hope to get out of my rut and resolve the story in the nest three or four chapters. I'm still not sure where it's going, so if anyone has any suggestions or "predictions" I'd love to hear them! Please review, anyway, too, even if you don't! Thank you so much, and have a great weekend.**

Demeter sat swirling a spoon in her coffee, thinking. It had been a week and she still couldn't shake Tugger from her thoughts. She kept running through her relationship with him, up to the day she met Munk. Her mind flew back to those few weeks: her being new at the yard, her catching sight of him catching sight of her, him trying to be 'intellectual' because that's what she told him she liked, him failing terribly at intellectuality, him 'catching' her talking to Mungojerrie, him blowing up, her realizing he had been taking them a whole lot more serious then she had, and finally, her running over to Old Deuteronomy's tire, where she would eventually run into Munk when he came outside for the first time in weeks. She laughed at the thought of teenaged Munk. He had been studying to do...whatever he does...since she had arrived and the first time he popped his head out into the sun in three weeks, she was sitting talking to his father. She smiled again thinking of the look on Munk's face the first time he saw her. She sighed and spoke to herself.

"Oh, Munk, it was all perfect—or as perfect as we could have asked—until that damn night!" She slapped the table in frustration.

"What was that, dear?" Munkustrap asked as he slipped in through the front door.

"Oh," She smiled. "Nothing, Munk." She stood and walked over to him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Just thinking..." She sighed and flopped onto the couch dramatically.

"You need to relax, hon." He sat next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. "Everything is in the past. No one is mad, no one is upset with you. _You_ need to stop being upset with _yourself_ now, ok?" She kissed him gently again.

"You're right, I guess." She smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"You said that yesterday." Munkustrap said.

"I know; I mean it this time."

"You said that yesterday, too." Munkustrap kissed her on the tip of her nose, before going to open one of the west-facing windows in the house. After sitting back down, he wrapped his arms around Demeter, and they both sat smiling, staring at one of the nicest sunsets they'd had in a while.

.

.

On the other side of the junkyard, Victoria and Mistofelees stood on either side of Tugger's, now fixed, door. "We've fixed him, can we go now?" Mistofelees asked impatiently. He leaned up against the left side of the door, his arms crossed, chewing on a claw now and then.  
"Not yet, and stop that!" Mistofelees quickly took his finger out if his mouth, crossing his arms again. "He'll be out any minute; just be patient!" Victoria was pacing back and forth in front of Tugger's door. "Tugger!" She yelled into the wood.

From the other side, Tugger replied, "Just a second!" He stood in the far corner of his newly cleaned home, staring into a mirror. He smiled at himself before turning on his heels and marching, head held high, towards the door. When he opened the door, Mistofelees' mouth dropped and Victoria squealed. "Well, what do you think?"

.

.

"Come to bed, dear." Demeter called down the hall. Munkustrap had been on patrol that night, and at midnight was still going over Macavity's latest strikes while downing his third cup of coffee.

"Just a minute, dear." He gulped down the last mouthful. He stared at the bottom of his mug for a moment before looking to the pot and seeing there was no more. He sighed. "I'm coming." He rinsed his mug out and left it in the sink before rolling up the map he had been studying all night and sauntering down the hall towards his bed. "Where's Victoria tonight, dear?" He stretched before. Letting himself fall onto the pillow he and Demeter shared. "With Electra—er—Etcetera—er...?" His voice faded as he thought.

"Same den, dear." She kissed his cheek and curled up into a ball, her back pressed against his side.

"See, I knew where she was." He stuck his finger in the air, emphasizing his point.

"Of course you did, dear." Demeter yawned.

"Hm. I swear she never sleeps at home anymore." Munkustrap concluded. He then too rolled over, putting his arm around his wife, and beginning to doze off.

"DAD!" Munkustrap sat bolt upright at the sound of his daughter's voice. "MOM!" Victoria called once again. This time, Demeter too shot up. Munkustrap and Demeter ran down the hall, only to find Victoria and Mistofelees in the living room. She was jumping up and down, a wild smile plastered across her face, and he was leaning on the wall again, one hand on the handle. Munkustrap eyed his daughter's boyfriend, his ears flattening, as a million reasons why these two would be standing in his house at midnight: She wants to move in with him—worse—they want to get married—worse!—she's pregnant!

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" Munk snarled. Victoria froze. Mistofelees straightened and fought the overwhelming urge to salute.

"Uh..." Mistofelees choked.

"You have three seconds to tell me exactly what you're doing with my daughter after midnight before I—"

"Dad!" Victoria yelled. Munkustrap turned around, Mistofelees slid over on the wall, away from the direction of Munkustrap's claws. "It's not about us!"

"Then what are you doing?" More relaxed, Munkustrap rubbed his eyes and then his temples. He was getting too old to be staying up this late.

"Tugger." Was all Victoria said. With that one word, Mistofelees opened the front door, and in walked Tugger himself. Victoria beamed, Mistofelees rolled his eyes, Demeter's jaw dropped, and Munkustrap stifled a laugh.

"Nobody will tell me what they think. This was a lot of work to do, you know. I haven't gone natural since I was ten!" Tugger crossed his arms, and stared down at his brother.

"Well, I'll say this much: Tugger, I never thought I'd see you gray again." Demeter's head snapped back and forth from brother to brother. Tugger's paws, once his signature bright leopard, had been reverted to the same steely gray that covered most of his brother's body. His mane, too, was no longer the flashy gold it had been for most of his life, but soft cloudy, silver, and combed back in a neat and respectable manner.

"Gray, _again?_" Demeter asked.

"Well, sure. You didn't think he was born with those spots, did you? Nah! He hated how much we looked alike when we were younger, so he dyed it!" Demeter once again eyed Tugger and Munkustrap. Under the dye, the two really did look strikingly similar.

"What did they—why did you—how did that—will someone please tell me what has just happened here?" Demeter crossed her arms as her ears flattened.

"I'm starting fresh." Tugger said.


End file.
